


Michael Jackson | Prince Nelson // IMAGINES

by Ghettomisfit



Category: Michael Jackson - Fandom, Prince Rogers Nelson
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Imagines, King of Pop, Michael Jackson - Freeform, Mj fam, Moonwalkers, Smut, explicit - Freeform, jackson dynasty, mature content, oneshots, prichael, prince Rogers nelson - Freeform, purple army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghettomisfit/pseuds/Ghettomisfit
Summary: Imagines :)) requests are open!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

IMAGINE | "Coffees and Empty Threats"

PART ONE

______

I don't know whether to scream or cry, right now. It's not everyday, that someone gets a call back to do a month-long trial run to work as the personal assistant for one of the most sensational boy bands of our time. 

The Jackson 5.

Today, could be the beginning of the rest of my life. 

Perhaps, that was a bit dramatic. Of course, I don't plan to work as a personal assistant for the rest of my life...that would be absurd. But, it should be a decent first job, since I moved from Mississippi, out of my parent's house and into my own space. 

The money that my parents gave me to start off with was nearly hanging by a thread and my life saving...well, my life savings are nonexistent. With that being said, I'd no other choice but to go job hunting, and against all odds, I ended up here...

In the rather modern-day decorated waiting room of Motown records...in fact, I believe I saw this rug in this month's issue of "Furniture medley."

Oddly, there's no magazines around to keep me occupied. The secretary looks almost, dare I say it...bothered by my presence. We sit there I complete silence. That is until her phone rings. She quickly picks it up.

"You've reached Motown records, how may I be of assistance?" She greets, grinning as if the person on the other line could see it.

"Oh yes...right now?" She looks at me with furrowed eyebrows and a tilted head. I pull from her gaze, looking down at my feet.

"She's on her way." She states before hanging up. She clears her throat and I look up at her.

"They're ready for you...three doors down the hall, turn left, make another left and you'll see the second door on the right side of the hall. It should say 23B...you can walk right on in." She directs.

"Thank-you." I smile. She grunts in response as I make my way down the hallway, following every instruction, as given. I stand in front of the dark wooden door.

23B, it read. Just as the secretary instructed.

Before I could reach the door handle, the door is pushed outwards, almost hitting me. A tall man with a pudgy, yet muscular built comes out. He reminds me of a pit-bull, almost.

His eyes land on me, with a questionable expression.

I look up at his tall stature, compared to my rather small one. I'm not exactly short (I'm 5"9', to be exact) but, compared to him...I was an ant. Feeling rather intimidated, I clear my throat.

I'm usually never intimidated, or scared of anything...but, considering today's circumstances. I was a wreck.

"Mylene Shaw...I'm supposed to be here for the P/A trial-run." I gulp. He crosses his arms and nods.

"Ah, yes!" He lights up. "Miss Shaw, welcome. I was just headed out to fetch you, but, since your already here...I guess we should get you started right away." He reopens the door and gestures for me to walk in first, with I do.

We walk in to find...

what's going on? What am I looking at?

Bill looks at me, smiling at my nervous expression.

"It's fine...just a little rough housing. They're always like this." He assures. "Plus, there's one more candidate for the job, so, you won't have to deal with them all, by yourself."

I nod, smiling back, though, I still felt uneasy. But, I rufuse to let it show.

"Boys!" Bill claps. "Come on, get up! That's enough, y'here?? There's someone I'd like for you to meet!" He shouts, storming over to the boys, and pulling them off of one another. "I said, I have someone for you all to meet!"

At that, they look at Bill with raised brows before turning their attention to the door. Where I was standing. The immediately stand up and dust themselves off.

Of course, I knew who they all were...meaning, I could put a name to the face, for sure. Especially Marlon.

I always had a soft spot for Marlon. He seems so sweet and angelic. Almost unreal. I smile lightly, giving a shy wave.

"Boys, this here's Mylene." Bill gestures towards me and all of the boys smile at me. "She's going to be you personal assistant for the time being. I expect you all to treat her with the up most respect, do you here me?"

They all nod, muttering responses and smiling.

"Great." Bill nods, approvingly.

"I'm Randy." The smallest said, in the sweetest voice. I knew Randy was the youngest brother.

I smile, nodding. "It's nice to meet you, Randy."

"Tito." Another one said, holding his hand out. "It's real nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I shake his hand, smiling. I probably look like a damn idiot, considering how hard I'm smiling. But, honestly, I could give a flying fuck. i grew up on their music, and I absolutely loved it all. It truly was a honor.

"Jackie." Another one says. I shake his hand and smile, nodding.

"Nice to meet you, Randy." I smile. Randy is quick to be pushed out the way by Marlon. Who grabs my hand.

"The name's Marlon, baby girl." He smiles, bringing my hand to his lips, kissing the top. I blush, looking away.

Is there anyway I could say "Please let me have the honors of having your babies" without sounding weird?

"I-it's nice to meet you, too, Marlon." I smile.

He smirks, fixing his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the door opening.

"Ah! I didn't know we were having a meet and greet." The voice chuckles. Reluctantly, I turn around, hitting a chest, knocking me back. I look up from a light blue collared shirt.

Michael Jackson.

And I must say...the boy had a impeccable facial structured. His cheekbones and dangerously sharp jawline can slice the newborn tension in the room, into two. Not to mention, his eyebrows were to die for. His big, dark eyes, deep enough to swallow me, whole. I switch, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

"And who might you be? another crazed groupie who slithered her way through security, again. How cute." He says, tone being undoubtedly condescending.

Okay...now, I'm a tad bit tooken back.

"Excuse you? I am here to do a job, and I don't know who you think you are, talking to me like that. But, let's make one thing clear. You will not be making my job harder than what it needs to be. Name's Mylene, but, that's Miss Shaw, to you." I snap, harshly. I couldn't help it...something about him was off, and rubbed me the wrong way. I'm a defensive person, resulting of my rather colorful past.

Michael seemed a bit taken back, by my outburst. I could tell that he wasn't used to people talking to him like that...or at least, people who he had just meet, talking to him like that. But I could give a damn, right now. He started it, and I simply corrected him, as I should.

Like you wouldn't do the same.

"Very sorry, if I offended you." He pouted. The apology, was so obviously fake. But...not wanting to lose my job on the first day, I simply nodded, as if nothing happened. 

Forgive and forget.

Bill looked at me with a satisfied smile...almost as if he proud if me. That was until he turned to the rest of the boys. "As most of you know, this is Mylene Shaw and she is going to be your personal assistant along with another candidate. Go easy on her while we get her situated and familiarised. If you need anything, you talk to Mylene and she'll get it done. Do not, I repeat, do not take advantage of that. And, yes, I do mean you, Michael...we all know you have a history with that."

All the boys snicker at Bill's comment...all the boys except Michael. Michael just looked me up and down, sizing me up, with a mean expression, making me switch, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Okay, Let's get you back to work." Bill says, before turning to me. "Let's get a move on it, shall we?"

Bill turns and walks towards the exit, with me trailing close behind. I know I made a bad first impression on the boys...more so, Michael. What the hell was I think--No! He deserved it! Right? He needed a good scolding. That was just plain rude of him. Doesn't he know what good manners are?

As I was just about to walk out the door, I feel a slender hand tug on my forearm, causing me to stop. I feel a slight pinging in my stomach, making me freeze completely. Not a breath was released from my body. The grip was tight and I looked down to see a large hand with veins sprouting the backhand, like the branches of the world's largest tree. Then I knew it was Michael.

"I'll make sure that you hate this job so much, you quit." He hisses to the shell of my ear, causing my hair to blow back a bit, "Think I'm bluffing? Try me."

This motherfucka.


	2. PRN

IMAGINE | "Duty Calls"  
PART ONE

_____

"Hey, Danae." Prince sighed into the phone, taking a seat in his long sectional black leather sofa, using his free hand, he set his whisky down on the glass coffee table before him before loosening his tie, "It's Prince."

Danae, his secretary, remained confused on the other end as to why he spoke to her using his first name. Prince never allowed her to use his first name. "...Mr. Nelson? You need another coffee or something? I'm just heading out—"

"No, no, this is not about that." He chuckles. Now, she was really confused. Outside of work, he never spoke to her. If it didn't have anything to do with work, he hadn't even exchanged a glance with her.

"I know I don't usually do things like this, but I wanted to speak to you about something," he continued, clearing his throat as he reached for his drink, "Something a bit more private...meaning last night's happy hour."

Danae froze on the other end, letting a sigh out, closing her eyes. She didn't remember what happened last night, past the fact that Mr. Nelson had allowed his employees to have a drink or two considering how hard they'd been working. She woke up this morning in the same clothes that she went to work in accompanied by the most obnoxious headache which ultimately led her to the conclusion that she may have over did it with the drinks. She couldn't remember a damn thing. "Mr. Nelson, I am so sorry."

"Oh, so, you do remember last night?" He raises his eyes-brows, leaning forward as he sipped from his cup.

"...Actually, no." She sighs, "But, I do know that I had one too many drinks. And by your tone, I'm assuming that I did something either embarrassing to myself or something embarrassing to you."

He chuckles, setting the glass down in a loud clank before sitting back again, grabbing his remote from beside him, "I mean, everyone drank quite a bit...myself included."

"Well, y'know...long day at work, it's a nice way to take the edge off." She laughs, nervously. Mr. Nelson was completely unpredictable. One minute he's the cool chill boss, then the next he's blowing up at you and viola. You're out of a job. It was best to play it safe with him and stay on his good side.

"So...you don't remember a single thing from last night?" He flipped through the channels, the television was quite, he needed to hear what Danae has to say in defense for her actions last night.

"...No, last night was a bit hazy." She gulps, awaiting his outburst.

"You said a lot of things." He simply stated.

"Oh god." She breaths, slapping her forehead, "I put my foot in my mouth, didn't I?"

"Do you really want to know?" He questions.

She takes that minute to contemplate whether she really wanted to know what she said last night. It really must've been really out of pocket...especially for him to be calling him out of the blue like this. She clears her throat, "No."

He raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding, "Suit in yourself."

"Wait!" She exclaims before sighing, "Okay, okay. Yes?"

"You asked for it." He nonchalantly states, turning off the television, not being able to find anything good.

"Thanks." She mumbles.

"No." He shakes his head, "I mean you literally asked for it."

Her face was written in confusion as she replied, "I'm not following..."

He sighs, preparing himself for the words that he was going to spew at her, "You said 'I'm tryna sit on your face in the break room and let you get a taste of this forbidden fruit.'"

She was silent on the end, completely frozen as he continued.

"Then you said 'The way you bark orders around the office, that's that big D mentality, daddy.'"

She stood, speechless. Her head was rushed with a million thoughts, she even contemplated just hanging up to save herself some embarrassment. As if anything could be more embarrassing than this. Once she finally mustered up the little courage and dignity that she had, she let her seemingly small words out, "Oh my god." She covered her mouth, "Look, I-I..."

"Oh, you also said you'd suck the soul out of me." He knew what he was doing now. He knew she was absolutely embarrassed and terrified.

She gasped, moving the phone from her ear, with widened eyes, covering her mouth.

"...then you made slurping sounds." She heard him say through the receiver.

"Oh god." She spoke, bringing the phone back to her ear, "Listen, I am so sorry. I-I really don't know what got into me yesterday day—"

"You also said, and I quote, you'd ride my...'Zick'? Like a solider."

Feeling defeated, she closed her eyes, let her shoulders fall, she sighed into the phone. Her face was burning and she wanted nothing else but to end this conversation and never see him again.

"Y'know, I'm not actually quite sure what that means." He says, one brow risen.

"...I think it's from a Drake song." She sighs. "Look...I really don't even know what to say right now. I'm sorry. Whatever I need to do to make up for that—wake up earlier and be at the office before you, whatever—I'll do it. What I said was completely unacceptable and I honestly wouldn't even be surprised if you fired me."

"There is something you could do, actually." He sighs. She nods, understandably, waiting for him to spew out a list of chores and extra stress, just before giving her an impossible deadline. But instead, he leans forward, lowly he spoke into the phone,

"Tell me if you're about that life."

Confusion was written all over her face, is also dropped from every syllable that she spoke. What the hell did that even mean? She honestly wished that he'd just give her the list so she could move on with her life, and pretend like none of this happened in the first place. She wished she never even said yes when he asked if she wanted to know what she told him the other night. "...Sir?"

"Don't play coy now." He speaks, "Or was it all just liquid courage? Look, secretary or not, we are two grown ass adults."

Now, she was taken aback. She had caught his drift, as she mentally put all the pieces together. No wonder why he hadn't fired her yet. Everything made sense. She started thinking about her time with him at the workplace, he never made anything clear but he dropped a hint every now and again. Other than that, she did find him attractive, along with half of her co-workers. Sometimes, she'd even talk to her close girl friends about it. She knew some of the stuff Mr. Nelson had said that she told him sounded familiar, considering that she'd tell her friends that when Prince was nowhere in sight. "Mr. Nelson, Sir, with all due respect, erm...No. I mean, you of all people should know how much is at risk here."

"Danae," He chuckles, "You said it yourself, you want it. And I want to give it to you. Nothing is going to happen if one, it stays between the two of us and the two of us only. And Two, if it stays between us. Besides, you and I both know I could have you speaking in tongues."

She was silent on the other line, as she weighed her options. Shit, she thought. The man was very fine, very rich and did I forget to mention fine? One side told her to put the dumb bitch juice down and to just tell him no. The other told her to throw the dumb bitch drink back, and fuck the brains out of this man. She sighs, before putting the phone to her ear, coming to a decision, "Look...if I say yes—I'm not saying that I will, but if I do—this has to stay between us only. As in HR can't know."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He grins.

"In that case..." she shrugs, "I'm sure I can match your energy."

"Meet me in my office in ten...oh, and...no panties." Was the last thing he said before hanging up.


	3. MJJ

IMAGINE | "Coffee And Empty Threats"

PART TWO

________

I arrived at the studio in no time. I had to us my ID to get past security. Although, the photo wasn't very flattering, but when are ID photos ever flattering?

I walk into the rehearsal room, holding four hot coffees for the boys. One special one for Marlon. One for Randy. One for Tito. One for Jackie. None for Michael.

Hey, don't look at me like that. I was born petty.

"Hey there, Lens." Marlon flashes his winning smile, causing my heart to skip a beat. At that everyone turns and acknowledges my prescence with either a hello or a polite wave to match the warming smile...all except Michael. He wanted to be petty...two could play at that game.

"There's clothes that need some ironing." Michael announces, looking bone straight at me. "Chop, chop."

"What? That's not my j--"

"Your job is to assist me. If I want it done, you do it. If you want the job that is. Are we clear, now, help?" He retorts.

My jaw tightens and I nod. "I brought coffee." I finally say turning towards the boys. "Dig in. And, uh, Michael, is it?" I smile, innocently.

"Mr. Jackson." He corrects.

"Right, right. Silly me." I chuckle. "In fact, I'm so silly, that I forgot all about you. No coffee for you, boo hoo. I'm sure, you can do without, though, isn't that right?"

He stares at me with cold eyes, sending shivers down my spine. Still, I will not show the effect that he has on me. Never. Yes, I'm that stubborn.

I stand still under his gaze and nod. "Thought so."

Before he could throw another one of his intelligent responses my way, I turn and walk away, tending to the pile of what seems to be stage performing outfits. Six different sets of outfits. This was quite the task.

"Lens?"

I turn around, to see Marlon, causing my heart to jump. I smile stupidly at the use of his little nickname for me. "Yes, Marlon?"

"If you'd like, we--you and I, could go to the café, downstairs..you know, to bring you up to speed on a few things, regarding the group. How does that sound?" He smiles.

Basically a date, I mentally confirm. Jesus Christ, I was going delusional. But, he looked so good. I felt the sudden urge to warp my arms around his slender yet muscular built. That's not too weird, I hope. Right? That's not that weird.

"Y-yeah, of course." I stutter, in utter disbelief. He basically asked me to marry him.

"Don't forget about me." Michael suddenly and abruptly says, standing up from The chair that he'd been sitting in since I gotten here.

Marlon rolls his eyes, as I glare at Michael. This man was determined to ruin my happiness. Why now? The man is in his early-20s. Don't he have better things to do with his time, besides toy around with me? I swear, I'm this close to going ballistic on his skinny, stick-looking ass. Wasn't he meant to be shy and quiet?! Someone obviously lied, because he is no where near that! Whatsoever!

"So, where are we going?" He cheeses at a frowning Marlon. Marlon heads for the door, with Michael and I following behind. Michael pushes past me, causing me to stumble a bit. What the hell is wrong with him?!

I just opened my mouth and say something, until Michael gives me the coldest look that I've ever accounted, during my twenty-one years of being. Cold enough to make hell freeze over.

I quickly close my mouth, feeling a bit shooken by his powerful glare. 

Minutes later, we end up in a rather modernly decorated café, just a few floors below the studio. We snatch up a booth in the far back. Marlon gestures for me to sit across from him (Which I do, without question). And much to my dismay, Michael sits right beside Marlon.

I cross my legs, accidentally, kicking Michael, underneath the table. My hands clenched together, feeling awfully uncomfortable.

Michael's expression is unreadable. Almost as if he didn't feel me kick him. I prepare myself for his wrath, only to hear him clear his throat.

So, I turned my attention to dear Marlon. So perfect. He sat there, as graceful as a dove, just smiling happily, flashing his perfectly white teeth. His beautiful dark eyes, looking back at me. I hadn't noticed I'd been staring. That is until...

"Stare much, pervs?" Michael interunpts. "I hope this isn't y'all way of flirting with each other...it's disgusting."

My eyes snap to Michael, who I harshly glare at. It took everything in my power not to make a comment about his bird chest. Not because I hated it...actually, I thought it made him look innocent and softer (which is very misleading!), but, only because I knew it would annoy him, greatly. And I wanted nothing other than to annoy him at this moment.

"If I was third-wheeling as hard as you are, i'd be pressed too." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, what'd you say?" Michael grits, kicking me back, underneath the table. "You gotta speak up."

How did I not see this happen? It was bound to happen at some point.

"You assh--" I start, rubbing my shin, causing him to smirk.

"So, anyways." Marlon interupts. "You'll be working for me and Michael, more so than the other person, who's minding, Tito, Jackie and Randy. You know...the other person who's competing with you for the job. Although, one P/A isn't enough to handle five men--"

"Men?" I scoff, looking at Michael who glares at me. "Rarely."

"Don't start with me--"

"Like I was saying." Marlon announces, in attempt to stop the upcoming argument. "You'll both most likely get the job."

I nod, as he continued to explain stuff to me. Michael looked bored as ever. I merely nodded as Marlon spoke, though I wasn't concentrated on what he was saying. I was more say admiring his cute little features. Michael noticed, and simply rolled his eyes, without any smart remarks. Surprisingly.

"I'm not as high maintenance, as Michael, so don't worry." Marlon jokes, nudging me a bit. I smile, widely, probably looking like the biggest idiot in the world. Michael rolls his eyes, once again.

"And so, yeah...I think that we should get more acquaintaned...."

\----

Marlon and I talked for hours. Michael had to leave, thank god. I got more alone time with Marlon. I found out about a lot of his likes and dislikes. God, he is just so funny, smart, gorgeous, charming--Wait, I'm going off track here. From, the information that Marlon told me, it seems as if Marlon won't be as hard to deal with as Michael. I can pretty much takle his needs with no trouble. Hopefully, in more ways than one...

I returned back to the room with the producers, addressing boring, seemingly unimportant issues with them. I made sure to know Michael and Marlon's schedules. I also watched as the boys played, but, couldn't hear much, because they were in the recording booth. I looked at Marlon. Oh how his danced and sung with so much force. Hitting every mark perfectly. Oh how he hit those marks, giving every move it's own attention.

Mylene, seriously?? Distract yourself! I tell my myself, before my thought turn on to a not so innocent route. I tear my eyes from Marlon, looking around the room. That's when my eyes found Michael. At this time Michael, had released his own first solo album, off the wall—which did fairly well, earning him one Grammy—and was working on his second, which remained unnamed. I never had the time to listen to his first album, though, I've heard from friends that is was a great ears-worth. they've also told me that it was worth more than just one Grammy win.

As Michael sung, his eyes remained mostly open and expressionless. That is, until he hits a certain vocal, that caused him to smile, or wince a bit. It was adorable. His eyebrows furrow in concentration. His long eyelashes flutter a bit. If there's anything that I liked about Michael, it Definetly was that voice. It was so powerful and his ability to vocalize like that, was through the roof. His voice was soulful and he knew how to connect with the audience. Suddenly his eyes close for what seems to be about five seconds. When they reopen, his dark orbs land on mine. My mind was telling me to abort mission, but I couldn't. His eyes was pulling me in, like some sorta black hole. He continued singing, with his eyes locked on to my own. No being able to take the pressure anymore, I look away, feeling a bit weak and defeated.

His eyes were intimidating, I can admit that. I never seen eyes that vulnerable and...dark. Ever.

I look down at my feet, until the song ends.

"Well done, boys. Take five." One of the producers say, signaling for the boys to exit the recording booth. 

I was still looking down at my shoes when I felt a force wrapping around my forearm tightly, pulling on me causing my body to move along with it.

"What the f--" I snap, feeling a bit startled by the sudden action. I look up to see Michael, looking down at me angrily. For fuck's sake...what did I do now?!

I look around at our surroundings, only to recognize the room as what seems to be a cup board room.

"You think I don't know what the hell your doing?" Michael suddenly growls.

"What?" I scrunch my face up in utter confusion, snatching my arm back from his grip.

"I bet you open your legs for anybody with a beating heart." He shakes his head with his face scrunched up in disgust, "Probably don't even know your own pussy from a hole in the wall..."

Okay.

Woah, now.

"Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?!" I growl, feeling offended, "You don't know a goddamn thing about me! I'm not gonna sit here and just let you call me a hoe, you skinny beanpole bastard! I don't even know what the hell you're talking about! Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?!"

"First, your flirting with my brother, now you vulturing me!" He snaps.

"Wow....your ego really is larger than your head." I scoff, "Ain't nobody checking for yo ass!"

"Look, I don't know what your game is--"

"My game?!" I snap. "My game?! I just came here to do my job! What is your fucking problem with me?!"

"I don't like you." He says bluntly.

I scoff, stepping back. I was obviously taken back by that. I mean, I thought he didn't like me before, but his aura seemed harsher than before. At least I knew for sure now.

"You know what? I don't give a fuck. Fuck you and fuck ya brother! You don't like me, cool, I'm not finna sweat it. Just stay the hell away from me, and we won't have a real problem. Don't say shit to me, don't look at me. Don't even think about me." I shrug, "And for yo information, bird chest, whoever I do decide to open my legs for, you can bet your boney ass that you are most certainly not one of em. So don't flatter yourself, sister."

He glares at me before walking around me and storming out angrily. I scoff, following suit.

"Asshole." I mumble.

"Bitch." He mumbles back.

I was gonna storm out of the studio altogether, well that was until Marlon caught up to me. I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Not even Marlon. I held a scowl on my face, showing that I wasn't in a very good head space as of now, but still Marlon smiles. His smile was quick to disappear into a frown when he notices the expression that I held on my face.

"Hey...lens...uh, I saw you and Michael go into the cupboard...? And I, uh... I just wanted to check on you." He spares a apologetic smile, "I'm really sorry about Michael, I honestly don't know why he's acting that way towards you—Did he...did he try anything?"

"Hm?" I hum. I was barely listening to a word he said, I was so distracted by me hatred for Michael. Hell yeah, I was fuming. How dare he come at me like that? He doesn't know shit about me!

"I asked if he tried anything, I mean, you stormed out of there like you had murder on your mind, I just wanted to make sure Michael didn't do anything that made you...uncomfortable." He says.

My features immediately softened and just like that I felt bad for saying fuck him when I was yelling at his asshole brother a few minutes ago. I could tell he was nervous by the way he stuffed his hands into his pockets and boy was it adorable. My anger was slowly starting to subside, Marlon was too damn adorable. It was impossible to be angry while looking at him at the same time. The corners of my mouth slowly tugged up into a small smile.

"No, of course not. And look...don't worry about Michael. I can handle him, it's fine."

He gave me an unsure look. I just chuckled, shaking my head, before sparing a small shrug.

"Trust me, don't worry about me." I say softly, "I work for you remember? As a matter of fact, I was just headed out to, y'know...blow some steam. Did you need anything while I was out?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." He smiles. "And you know, if you ever wanna talk...it's not much, but I'm all ears."

"Thanks. Who knows, I might just take you up on that offer."

"Hey, Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?" He smirks.

"Right."

"Well, I, uh...better get back to rehearsal. I'll see you later, alright?" I calls back to me as he walks away, "Be safe!"

"I will!" I call back, watching him as he jogs away.

Phew...what a man!

I lightly smiled to myself as I walked out of the studio. This had to have been one of the most roller coaster days of my life.

Michael annoyed the shit out of me, Marlon made heart skip...overall, I was still happy that survived my second day on the job. Usually it wasn't that easy. But, now...I was getting a hang of it. Besides the whole "Michael the gargoyle" thing, everything was going smoothly. I wasn't gonna let that pathetic ass nigga ruin things for me, and if he thought he was gonna make me quit...he had another thing coming for him.


	4. MJJ

IMAGINE | "Have a Nice Day"

______

A pack of Newports. A box of chocolate turtles.  
This months issue of Jet magazine. Washing detergent. A can of fabreeze...

Michael continued to read off the items as he rang them up and bagged them,

"That's twenty-three dollars and ninety-five cents." He sighs, watching as the older woman pulled out her wallet before dumping out three five dollar bills, a plethora of quarters and a singular dollar bill.

The sight made him hot under the collar. There was no way in hell he was gonna sit up there and count all those damn quarters. In fact, he'd much rather not be here altogether. Usually, on a nice summer day like this, you would find Michael out and about with a couple of his friends stirring up trouble in Midtown mall's food court or even at the park on 50th and Hampton, shooting hoops.

Unfortunately, after Michael was caught trying to sneak back into the house through the kitchen window after a house party all while reeking of reefer and alcohol, his parents had a heated, lengthy conversation and came to the conclusion that the best punishment for him would be for him to sign his summer freedom away to the convenience store a couple blocks from his house. His parents had been good friends with the sweet older couple that owned the store, whom, was more than happy to have the extra helping hands around the store.

Michael on the other hand, was not at all pleased with this decision. Later, he had planned to go home and negotiate with his parents. He would offer to clean out the cluttered garage and wash his fathers—Joseph's—work truck. In exchange, they would release him from his bondages as a volunteer worker (meaning, no payment whatsoever) at Carter's convenience store.

He huffed as he spreads the quarters out, counting 16 quarters—four dollars. Quickly, he put the money into the register before handing the white-haired, cat-loving, Betty white look-alike her bags and bidding her a good afternoon.

He even contemplated just walking out, and locking up early since there weren't many customers out today. 

Well, except her.

He went back to doing something close to nothing, leaning over the counter, watching as the girl grabbed another ice pop from the freezer before making her way towards the register holding a bag of dill pickle lays chips, a Pepsi, two ice pops, a box of jujubes and a pack of twizzlers.

He quickly made a mental note to restock the ice pops and drumsticks. Especially during this time of the year in California when the heat became almost unbearable, people would always find themselves in Carters buying items that would potentially prevent a possible heatstroke which meant ice pops and sodas would fly off the shelves in no time.

She laid her items down on the counter,

"Good afternoon, Did you find everything okay?" He asks. She doesn't respond.

Instead she stares at the boy blankly with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. He looked back at the girl with furrowed brows.

Rude ass...he thought,

"I guess, some people don't know how to speak now." He mumbles, with the intentions for her to hear. Still, she only stared as he bagged her snacks while silence passed through them.

"That's nine dollars and ten cents." He states, dryly. If it was one thing that Michael couldn't stand it was rude ass people. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was loud enough for her to hear, she had obviously made the choice not to respond which irked him beyond articulation.

He held his peace as she handed him a ten from the back pocket of her jean shorts. He handed her back her change, and suddenly she lifted her hands for some type of movement.

Sign language.

(Thank you, have a nice day.)

Michael looked at her, confused as ever before it slowly registered.

She was deaf.

The girl was fucking deaf.

No wonder why she couldn't respond to a word that he was saying...she couldn't even hear a word he was saying.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heels and left the store. Guilt immediately washed over him while he watched her leave as he thought,

God, I hope she couldn't read lips that well...


End file.
